


Like A Scene From A Memory

by heavvymetalqueen



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Armed Robbery, M/M, Smooching, mentions of torture and experimentation, prog metal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 06:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8567926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavvymetalqueen/pseuds/heavvymetalqueen
Summary: It would be cool if he could get off this dumb place with him, just the two of them against the world.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BrackenMouth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrackenMouth/gifts).



> Written for the prompt: "a rare sweet, quiet moment in their chaotic lives"

Eli dangles his legs from the edge of the runway, arms crossed on the warm railing. He watches the men several feet down training and throwing each other, tries to suck up as much of their fighting technique as he can. That bastard cat isn’t gonna get him a second time.

He feels a prickle at the back of his head, like a shiver that doesn’t quite translate to his spine.

“Hey,” he says, not turning. He doesn’t have to, he knows who’s hovering a couple inches from the runway at his side.

The small vibration in his head kind of feels like a question, so he points down at the men. “Watching,” he says.

The kid doesn’t speak any of his languages and Eli does not speak whatever it is that he speaks, but they are getting okay at communicating through their mind.

Tretij - that’s not his real name, just what people call him, but it feels better than calling him just _kid_ , and he doesn’t seem to mind - slowly lands, slotting his thin legs under the railing.

“Got you something,” says Eli, pulling out a chocolate bar and tossing it at him. He stole it from the secret stash of one of the female soldiers that like to coo at him. Women are stupid. Tretij smiles - Eli can’t see it under the gas mask, but he can feel it, like a wriggle in his mind - and unwraps the chocolate, snapping it in half and handing him one of the halves.

“No, eat it. I’m fine.”

Tretij pushes the chocolate into his face.

“I’m good, Tretij.”

Pap pap, warm chocolate on his face.

“Oh, fine.” He snaps around and bites it off Tretij’s hand. Tretij actually laughs, muffled through the mask.

It’s a bit melted and too sweet, but it’s better than the shit they stole from the soldiers back in Africa. Tretij pushes his mask up to his nose to stick the chocolate in his mouth, exposing the pink burn scars and his crooked teeth. He stopped being afraid of showing his face to Eli just recently, though he does it very rarely. He always purrs timidly in his brain when Eli doesn’t think he’s disgusting.

Eli has seen much worse in his years on the battlefield. He’s actually kind of envious of Tretij’s fire red curls, so much more striking than his dirty blonde mop. He’s cute and cool, and never asks stupid things, and he’s strong, and Eli likes him a lot.

The sun is hot and somewhere a radio is playing, and it’s that one song he likes. Tretij hums happily as he gets chocolate all over his sleeves, and Eli feels his rage simmer down for a little bit.

_Terror happens quickly_  
_Remains till the sailor are gone_  
_They vanished in the night_  
_Sirens singing their song_  
_Whoa--till they're gone..._

It would be cool if he could get off this dumb place with him, just the two of them against the world.

The slow ebb in his mind, like a lazy cat rubbing against his shins, lets him know that Tretij feels the same.

***

Driving a jeep is not nearly as exhilarating as driving a giant fucking robot, it will never be, but it’s definitely easier. Sometimes freedom doesn’t come with the biggest weapon and the biggest army, he’s discovered. Sometimes freedom is a dusty old jeep and the only person who understands you with his feet on the dashboard.

“Three people,” says Mantis. He said he wanted a code name like him a few months ago and suggested Psycho Mantis, which admittedly is _fucking cool as hell_ , so Eli is letting him keep it. Mantis keeps calling him Eli, but he does not mind. It was the first word he ever spoke to him, and it’s kinda nostalgic now. “Two customers and the cashier.”

“Hm. Does the cashier have a gun or something?”

Mantis’s long lashes flutter. “Yeah. Shotgun. Under the counter.”

Eli laughs. “Like stealing candy from a baby.”

Mantis smiles and slips his mask back on.

They drive the jeep straight into the gas station’s doors, trouncing one of the customers against a magazine rack. The other customers gets a bullet to the head from Eli’s handgun. The cashier fumbles with the shotgun, brings it up, and then shoots himself in the face while Mantis giggles.

They load all the food and supplies they can get their hands on in the back of the jeep. While Mantis drags it back outside without actually touching it, Eli smashes the till open and stuffs a fistful of banknotes in the pockets of his filthy jeans. They fill the tank with gas and peel off back into the swampy wilderness, car radio crackling over the old cassette that probably doesn’t have many plays left in it

_I am made from the dust of the stars_  
_and the oceans flow in my veins_  
_Here I hide in the heart of the city_  
_like a stranger coming out of the rain_

That night they feast until their stomaches hurt, roasting sausages over the campfire and chugging lukewarm beer. When they kiss their mouths are sticky and sickening sweet with candy, and Mantis laughs and he’s so cute Eli feels disgustingly sentimental with how much he loves him.

They sleep curled up together under the stars, and they are free.

***

Eli laughs, because he’s not expecting to see Mantis wearing a _suit_.

 _Fuck off_ , says Mantis, clear in his mind like he hasn’t been in over five years, the distance always putting a strain on their link.

“Sorry,” he snorts, trying to stop laughing. “You look good, really.”

Mantis rolls his eyes under his mask, and then floats closer with a sigh. _Missed you_ , purrs his mind as he loops his arms around Eli’s shoulders, fancy shoes knocking gently against his shins. Eli runs his palm over the short cropped hair at the side of his head. He misses the curls.

 _Can I?_ he asks, thumbs pressed under the mask.

Mantis dips his head and lets him slip off his protection. The damage on his face is not news to Eli; he was there in his mind when they shaved his head and electrocuted him; he was biting into his own arm and tasting blood and rage as they cut him up, cracked open his skull like a Halloween pumpkin; he was there with him when he murdered them all, burned the facility to the ground and lost what little they had left of his face; he is there every morning, looking through Mantis’ eyes as he dejectedly looks at himself in the mirror.

 _sorry_ , he whispers as Eli’s fingertips brush his scarred cheek.

“for what, being gorgeous?”

 _dumbass_ , he snorts, but he’s smiling, pulling at the wire holding his jaw together, because he knows Eli means it with every once of his being.

They kiss for a long time on Mantis’ couch (and isn’t _that_ a bizarre thought, that Mantis has a nice Washington DC apartment with a couch and cable TV), just getting reacquainted with being physically together rather than weakly tethered with the world in between.

“So what are you going to do now?” asks Mantis with his rasping voice as Eli pops a CD in his fancy stereo. His red tie is loose and his shirt unbuttoned over hieroglyphics of scars, and his smile is sad.

Eli skips tracks until he finds his favorite song. “I’m going to join Foxhound. Take all they gave to him.”

_I call upon the spirit that lives in a noble heart_  
_grant me the passion that's within my veins_

_shades of the dead are sliding on the wall_  
_demons dance in the castle hall_

“And then I’m going to kill him.”

Mantis takes his badge out of his pocket, and stares at it for a few moments as the hypnotic flute solo pours from the speakers. It catches fire, and not long after there’s only a burn mark on the carpet.

“I’m with you.”

“Till the end?”

His face may be mangled and destroyed but his eyes are still beautiful, and Eli still feels his heart falter when they lock with his. “Since day one, you know that.”

Mantis holds him tight that night in the too small bed, and promises nothing will ever separate them again. Eli believes it, and for the first time since Christmas, he sleeps without dreams.

***

_I just want to feel your sigh on my neck_  
_Want to feel your breath_  
_Feel your need to stay_  
_You don't know my name_  
_Don't know my face_  
_Only thoughts I share in my secret place_

Liquid Snake’s eyes flutter open, the warm dregs of memories clinging to him as he wakes from his trance. Beautiful music throbs into the wood panels of the plush office.

Long fingers brush his jaw. _feeling better?_

Liquid looks up at Mantis sitting on his desk, long legs framing him on the chair. He isn’t the adorable kid, nor the gorgeous teenager, nor the scarred adult of his dreams anymore. He’s a skeleton wrapped in leather that shares his hurtling voyage towards devastation because that’s all they know how to do. He smiles, rest his head on his scrawny thigh. “I am. Thanks.”

Mantis leans down, nuzzling his hair with his mask. He hardly takes it off at all these days, but Liquid has gotten used of kissing his mouthpiece, feeling the cool press of his lenses in the hollow of his neck when they sleep.

“When this is all over,” he says, rubbing Mantis’ gaunt hip through his leather vest. “We’re going back to Africa. Just the two of us and a jeep, like when we were kids.”

Mantis hums into his mask.

“We’re gonna be free again.”

“I’ve been free since I met you, Eli.” Mantis doesn’t speak out loud much anymore unless it’s to intimidate people. His name on his tongue still has the same tender lilt it had when it was the only English word he knew.

Liquid closes his eyes. He’s so tired.

“He’s coming,” says Mantis suddenly.

Liquid smiles. “Good. We’re ready for him.”

One way or another, at the end of this day, they will be free, together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Songs playing during this fic: 
> 
> Childhood: [Savatage - Sirens](https://youtu.be/lOKbqfzD6rc)  
> Teenage: [Rush - Presto](https://youtu.be/NNLc41ArS-k)  
> Adulthood: [Ayreon - The Castle Hall](https://youtu.be/L6htH064TRY)  
> Shadow Moses: [Riverside - Second Life Syndrome](https://youtu.be/QLhLKLLJOnA)


End file.
